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Posts Tagged ‘Cornwall’

Street sign in Helston

Last week in June, two days of can’t grumble, two drizzling days of miserable, two days of mostly pissing down.  Everyone saying how awful the previous week’s heatwave had been.  And I believe them.  Got seagulled in St Ives.  Pastie and sea bream in batter safely ingested, but despite the warnings with each purchase, carelessly pointing mid-consumption with cream tea flavoured ice cream in hand … whoosh, serviette and all, taken from behind.

To the museums! 

St Ives Museum a fascinating old-fashioned warren, a vaguely themed jumble of stuff, maritime, domestic, occupational.  Strictly no photos, I’m afraid, but amid the posters, portraits, ceramics, bad paintings, models, tools, flags, and myriad artefacts of the local populace:

  • a pair of boots modelled from bread and paper by an Italian POW at St Erith camp
  • a collection of ancient typewriters
  • dolls sculpted by fishermen from broken oars
  • a naval lieutenant’s cocked hat and its metal carrying case
  • a collection of policemen’s helmets and handcuffs
  • an Acme British ribbed glass washboard, perfect for skiffle
  • a steam operated printing press that unfortunately hasn’t steamed for many a year
  • a lamp hanging from the ceiling salvaged from the French crabber George le Bail, that was “accidentally run down and sunk at anchor in St Ives Bay” 11 March 1953
  • a display and video about the John Knill Ceremony Bequest of 1767: every 5 years, involving the mayor, vicar and customs officer in procession on St James Day with 10 girls aged under 10 dressed in white to dance  around his unfilled pyramid tomb to a fiddler’s accompaniment (fiddler’s fee originally £1, these days £25).  Plus the singing of the Old Hundredth psalm (“All people that on earth do dwell”) and a charitable handout to the needy.  A splendid old English custom still observed.  More at: http://calendarcustoms.com/articles/john-knill-ceremony/
  • an original poster of George III’s time asking for volunteers to become “Royal tars of Old England”

The Helston Folk Museum was more of the same, if a bit more focussed, but with a charm of its own.  It has the advantage of being sited on an incline, so it’s a slow walk up the long market-style aisle to an open area full of bigger agricultural stuff and a mezzanine of old shop fronts, and then back down again on the other side, with cases full of more stuff down the centre.  Among the joys:

  • documentation and photos of Helston’s first car
  • a collection showing the changing shape of police batons
  • bone miniature binoculars: “A souvenir of Margate”
  • a miniature dice with case “made from the tooth of a lion”

Helston was free entry but people would have happily paid an entrance fee; St Ives was £3 but well worth it for a refreshing anything is valid clutter.  Both were refreshingly free of IT flash and any obvious need to educate.  Chastening to see the stuff of one’s youth and later displayed in a museum.

A surprise, then to find The Art of Kuriology exhibition – now ended – in the art gallery space at the back of the Helston Museum.  As the rubric says, curiosities indeed – a roomful of them slightly adrift in time and space from the Folk Museum it was showing in.  Click on the illustrations to enlarge them.  And the centre piece, scenes from a science fiction disaster movie … or an imaginary future … a wheel bad dream?

Click on the image for explanation

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Spent the last week of June in Cornwall, staying in St Ives.  Another time for the weather, which will only be mentioned briefly in passing.  Because …

We bathed in the glories of Tate St Ives and their The studio and the sea season.  That continuous thing: artists and the ceramics studio in Galleries 1 to 3 held our interest well enough – how not with Bernard Leach and pals and the sometimes dubious wonders of The clay revolution?  That latter subtitled California, 1950-80s, with evidence that mind-altering drugs might well – surprise! – have been a factor; that and the contemporary notion of ‘abstract expressionist ceramics’ being in play.  The Studio hand-builders: Britain 1960s-90s room also included ceramics from as early as 200 BC for interesting context.

But what really got me were the Jessica Worboys sea paintings that filled the impressive ocean facing gallery from floor to ceiling (click on the pics to enlarge the view):

Photo scanned from the Tate St Ives postcard because of the no photography rule.

Though you can get a taste from this allowed photo of the atrium.

Here’s how they were made (quoting from the guide):

Worboys works directly on the shore, throwing paint pigment onto a damp folded canvas, and then allowing the waves, wind and sand to shift, scatter and drag the pigment.

Photo borrowed from the website, to give an idea of the scale: : http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-st-ives/exhibition/studio-and-sea

Some had been done nearby.  There was an electronic soundscape gently playing all the while.  I must have sat, shuffling along, for at least 20 minutes, and could have stayed longer.  To be honest, her other stuff didn’t do much for me, and I still struggle with video installations, but those absorbing canvases will stay with me a long time.

Slight tangent.  As it happened a touch of the déjà vus the next day when we visited the suspiciously named Paradise Park, near Hayle:  “In the 1970s Mike Reynolds aimed to create a paradise for birds in a setting of exotic gardens” it say here.  UK home of the World Parrot Trust, with active rare species breeding and conservation schemes, it’s well worth a look.  We had umbrellas up all the time we were there (even the otters were hiding from the rain) but the spectacular plumage of the birds was not dimmed.  And the bird I swooned at most was the Dusky Lory (unfortunately not my photo), featuring as it does the very pigments and hues of what had been my favourite of Jessica Worboys‘s sea canvases (the one above that bloke’s head in the small pic above.

But back to Tate St Ives.  Climbing the spiral staircase to the galleries was an experience in itself – deserving better photos – thanks to France Lise McGurn‘s intriguing mural Collapsing new people.  Not forgetting to look up!

Collapsing new people – detail

She says about the stairwell (quoted on the rubric on the wall):

“It is as though there could have been a party here.” However, while all her characters cavort and intermingle, each fragment of her painting references a different story of myth, from various histories and tales.

(Again, to enlarge an image, just click on it)

Surf board paint boxes

Mousehole

Mousehole again (I think)

Greens and a subtly hued hull

Possibly the seagull that got my ice cream

Something there is about it; ‘found’ abstract expressionism

 

 

 

The Lizard in drizzle

Wet weather can bring out colours, though.  And feeling the need to end with a palate pun: ’twas on the walk down to here we munched on Annie’ famous Cornish Pasties.

 

 

 

 

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